AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter Eighteen
Carter wakes up sore and satisfied. He also wakes up alone. He frowns, pushing himself up into a sitting position. Nathan – sir, he has to be sir again – isn’t in the chair like last night. For just a second, Carter worries that he made the entire thing up. That he had never woken up at all, his time with sir just another dream. Then he looks down at his body and sees that it’s positively littered with marks from the man aggressively fucking him last night. There’s no way it didn’t happen. He even has some subtle rope burn on his wrists.
Wearing his marks like a warrior, Carter decides to be brave and go knock on the closed bathroom door. Maybe he can join sir in the shower again. He can call Carter little red, and Carter can offer himself up to be devoured. They could just spend all day in here, fucking and watching Harry Potter.
Of course, this is reality. Carter is a sex slave, sir is his master, and life is not as easy as Harry Potter and great sex. That’s why Carter really shouldn’t be surprised when sir opens the bathroom door before he can even knock and immediately snaps at him. “What are you doing?”
“I was – I just…”shit, he looks mad.He also looks impossibly sexy standing there with a towel loosely knotted around his waist, water dripping down his chest, pooling in his stomach muscles, his happy trail curlier than usual. His blonde hair is damp and messy, locks falling on his forehead.
So. Fucking. Sexy.
But alsoveryfucking mad.
“Were you just spying on me?” Sir squares his shoulders, chin lifting as his eyes narrow. He suddenly feels 10 feet tall and deadly. “Were you listening to me?”
“I-” Carter pauses, looking behind sir, then back at him again. “Listening to you… what? Shower?”
“Answer the fucking question, Carter,” sir growls. He’s backing Carter up now. Pinning him against the wall. There’s nothing desirable about the position. Carter’s heart isn’t pounding in arousal or anticipation. It’s in fear.
“I didn’t hear anything! I was just going to knock and see if – if I could…”
Sir presses harder against him, making Carter perfectly aware of his size and muscle mass compared to Carter’s weak, underfed body. “If you could?”
“I was going to ask to join you, like yesterday.” Carter drops his chin, feeling ashamed and stupid. “But it’s not yesterday, it’s today, and I’m just a slave, and I’m really sorry. I forgot my place, sir. I’m so sorry.”
The longest pause in the history of pauses stretches between them, though Carter’s fully aware that if he subtracted his stirring panic, it was probably only a few seconds. Then sir takes a single step back and clears his throat. “I’m glad you’ve remembered your place. It’d be quite inconvenient to have to remind you of it this morning. We’re already running late. Go wash up. Bare minimum. Then come kneel in the closet. We need to talk.”
We need to talk.
That’s never very good…
Not wanting to push his luck, Carter hurries through the motions of going to the bathroom and washing himself up for the day. He finds sir in his closet as expected, but before he can lower himself to his knees, he sees a flash of angry red on sir’s hand. He accidentally gasps. When sir whips around to look at him, Carter immediately takes a step back. Then, like an idiot, he asks, “What happened?”
“Hmm?” Sir follows Carter’s gaze to where his hand is holding his phone, his jaw ticking when he sees what’s got his attention. “Oh. That.”
“Are you okay?”
The look sir gives him is annoyed. “I’m fine, pet. I’ve had much worse.”
That doesn’t make Carter feel any better. At all.
His worry overpowers his self-preservation. “You should ice it.”
“Pet,” sir says warningly.
But then Carter is seeing sir’s other hand, his knuckles just as bruised and cut up as the first, and his body is going cold. “Oh…sir.”
“It’s not your concern.”
“Were they like that last night? I – I don’t remember them being hurt when we-”
“You were rather distracted, and the room was dark.” Sir levels him with a gaze that leaves no room for argument. “And you’re not kneeling.”
Carter bites the inside of his cheek, warring with himself. He’s worried. Especially so. Sir had been in the chair instead of the bed last night. He had been drunk, smelling of scotch. And now Carter knows his hands had been injured.
“What happened?”
“Enough!” Sir snaps. He reaches forward and fists Carter’s hair, pushing him down to his knees. “Is this going to be our day? Because I have to say, I’m really fucking unimpressed with how it’s starting.”
